tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63136743863230902132024-03-04T21:43:29.435-08:00Nothing New For a YearBringing back resourceful creativityAnniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513006574392411449noreply@blogger.comBlogger161125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313674386323090213.post-57014552069242539662014-05-27T09:23:00.000-07:002014-05-27T09:43:55.860-07:00"Thank You"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
A big Thank You to snail mail.</div>
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A few years ago I found myself writing to my dad on some beautiful hotel stationary. Stationary... that rarely exists in hotel rooms these days. </div>
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It spawned a tradition of writing to my dad from whatever "hotel stationary"</div>
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<i>(open to interpretation these days...sometimes the size of a post-it note) </i></div>
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I find in my hotel rooms. </div>
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He never responded. Months of writing, almost every weekend. </div>
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My mother assured me he was receiving them and putting them away in a box. </div>
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And then it was my birthday. </div>
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In the mail I saw a card from my parents, and then one from just my dad. </div>
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Inside was a book of stamps, and nothing else. </div>
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It was his way of telling me to keep writing. </div>
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I was elated. </div>
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Hand written notes have become almost non-existent... I suppose the timeliness of emails, text messages, Facebook messages, etc make for faster communication but I still love a letter, in the mail...</div>
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So... in addition to the sad state of "hotel stationary" these days... </div>
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I make stationary (cards), and I write in them. </div>
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I made this as a gift. A set of 6 homemade thank you cards. </div>
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Some plain cardstock paper and remnants of whatever I have in the pile. </div>
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Maybe it's my wishful thinking that someday they will be used and the person writing will slow down, choose words carefully and write them with love, and in return....</div>
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the person opening up the mail box, assuming it's filled with more flyers to throw away and bills to pay... </div>
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will feel a little bit of the same thoughtful sentiments that were used to create them and write in them. </div>
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Such. A. Sap.</div>
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All you need is love... and stamps. </div>
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<br />Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513006574392411449noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313674386323090213.post-44859227396217253192014-05-22T06:41:00.002-07:002014-05-22T06:42:11.334-07:00Pinterest fail = easy win :)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Time has it's way of sucking me in. I've been known to hide out and read an entire book in one day, even if I should be doing other things. An entire season of Downton Abbey also hooked me and there went one day, and the next day (you can't stop after just one... hello season two). </div>
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So it's no surprise that when I hear people talk about Pinterest and how easily they lose track of time looking at the cool things you can make, I even hesitated putting that word in my vocabulary. </div>
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But like all good things, eventually, curiosity got this cat. </div>
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The next thing you know I was convinced my house "needed" a wreath made of old book pages. I may have also known my mother was coming to visit and if you know her, you know that if you don't give her something to do, she'll either iron everything you own, including napkins, pajamas and <i>always</i> the center pleat down ALL of your pants... </div>
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So... I tend to have projects ready for her... hoping my underpants don't end up starchy and stiff. </div>
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A wreath of Rosettes made out of book pages sounded like a good task.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXK5-XvhOO5nlBMVN899oSKJIpDmvnTrTupwTLDfUb_g3LS9dZgvU4klTfdbfew8nH6Y8gVeui2ENbtpXuZ_eIkOMx3xu6B7cKKInRXyFMnQMyr5d34j53fNwOlYhKqCCRsLebJN4VOCMD/s1600/book+wreath.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXK5-XvhOO5nlBMVN899oSKJIpDmvnTrTupwTLDfUb_g3LS9dZgvU4klTfdbfew8nH6Y8gVeui2ENbtpXuZ_eIkOMx3xu6B7cKKInRXyFMnQMyr5d34j53fNwOlYhKqCCRsLebJN4VOCMD/s1600/book+wreath.jpg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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Fairly time consuming and yet relatively simple and easy. Well... you should also know that we both have a little attention deficit problem. So after a few hours of making these, several burnt fingers on hot glue and the fine print that read we would likely need 200 of these things... the 50 or so we did get made... got put in a box and put away. </div>
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Bleaching something, anything, was more gratifying for her and felt more productive... </div>
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And so the roses sat. </div>
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And sat.</div>
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And sat. </div>
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Until... several months (maybe a year + later) when the Pinterest bug got me, likely thanks to someones Facebook post, and a huge FAIL at the original Pinterest project... a use for these roses was born. </div>
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Glue a magnet on the back. (also in a box waiting for the right time)</div>
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and Voila...</div>
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<br />Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513006574392411449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313674386323090213.post-84641728035465001362014-05-16T12:57:00.005-07:002014-05-16T13:04:13.163-07:00food + finance = fun<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
I don't know about you but I always seem to have a pile of stuff set aside to let my friends go through, send to my nieces or give to the Goodwill. Sometimes I change my mind (<i>tsk tsk</i>) and so my procrastination pays off! </div>
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Fast Forward....A good friend of mine gave me the cutest apron. </div>
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So cute, it actually hangs on display in my kitchen and rarely gets worn. Silly I know, but I just love the way it looks. When I think about gifts for other people I try and think about the things I have that I really love and imagine if said recipient might want something I find useful or awesome too. Well.... who doesn't need an apron? </div>
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(<i>I tend to wipe my hands on my pants or whatever I'm wearing, terrible habit, so I know I need one, and apparently so did my friend.</i>)</div>
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The other day I was having a hard time cutting some of my favorite fabric in hopes of turning it into an apron.</div>
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(<i>this is common... and stupid I know)</i></div>
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When I spied the Goodwill pile I took a closer look. It turns out an old dress shirt was already scalloped on the bottom, with cute buttons down the front and so the idea hatched. </div>
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Cutting the shirt apart was by far the hardest part. I didn't want to have to go back and sew what I had already undone. </div>
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(<i>because I don't have a sewing machine which means all sewing would have to be done by hand with a needle and thread</i>)</div>
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Here's where being a little smarter would come in handy... I probably pondered and imagined each and every way to make this work with the least amount of work. </div>
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Some people have said I'm so simple I'm difficult. </div>
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It's true. </div>
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I even tried using the sleeves as the part that you tie around your waist. But you know what that looks like? and old shirt tied around your waist :) lol</div>
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Terrible. </div>
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Well after a lot of agonizing, and screwing up one shirt that wasn't particularly cute (white), I cut the beloved purple shirt. </div>
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I used the collar from the white one and sewed it and the ribbon by hand and voila! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyrl71JcIGyObAysTwJSOkEKCyx1-q81fQ0te8FbY5gaIi2fKO4dbZU5MGSm-9xRciiLXQNGkiuIYtwkEJCkmf3P1uDBfe7GoIJcxn8G16Kir3GK4Go2i9Ndp5L8WYmgqTAu-NF65Ng3Eu/s1600/dress+shirt+apron.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyrl71JcIGyObAysTwJSOkEKCyx1-q81fQ0te8FbY5gaIi2fKO4dbZU5MGSm-9xRciiLXQNGkiuIYtwkEJCkmf3P1uDBfe7GoIJcxn8G16Kir3GK4Go2i9Ndp5L8WYmgqTAu-NF65Ng3Eu/s1600/dress+shirt+apron.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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Reincarnation? </div>
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I think a mens shirt wouldn't mind living it's next life tied around a little ladies waist... especially when it's helping to make some food :) </div>
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<br />Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513006574392411449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313674386323090213.post-28129463048047762062014-05-15T18:49:00.001-07:002014-05-15T18:59:39.779-07:00you can teach an old fence new tricks... I'm a thief. I said it. My neighbors left their discarded fence out by the street. It sat there, and sat there, and sat there. After dark one night, I stole some. Not all of it. Just a little... But I had an idea... and it didn't have a home or a purpose anymore - or so I assumed. Feeling pressured to keep the garage door closed while you work on a project out of fear that you'll get in trouble should probably be a sign, but it felt soo good. I had seen something while traveling a few months back and got a wild hair.<br />
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Then some friends asked for one made to look like the Union Jack flag... I say look like, because I got it wrong the first time :)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiwhz26fUWFDn2FFaxMpbiP16Prjd1N76zclpDMhog3iB5NvHhVY37U8gLhFHyF_mA7FWtdnrS1tLbAtT-2dQuIDK0mtOys1_BgzMWPJI9bFyn9Ie8zgAwLodxQkINWcAGur31sdKbms7O/s1600/union+jack+flag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiwhz26fUWFDn2FFaxMpbiP16Prjd1N76zclpDMhog3iB5NvHhVY37U8gLhFHyF_mA7FWtdnrS1tLbAtT-2dQuIDK0mtOys1_BgzMWPJI9bFyn9Ie8zgAwLodxQkINWcAGur31sdKbms7O/s1600/union+jack+flag.jpg" height="297" width="320" /></a></div>
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and my niece got one for her room... using a little color license...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1jrbip9KIC3TP5K5NeqsFOzCxOmXI9q0ukLprFOpuFxnBv9XturS9WYxIzIiQEXgmVLPWCfUA0Vk0JO3IkaQlsZNoHgWycqfNfA1Yf51v-lAPPbu-rTfrYFjcM9pzFUxLXtUUfMb6gBno/s1600/co+flag+pink.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1jrbip9KIC3TP5K5NeqsFOzCxOmXI9q0ukLprFOpuFxnBv9XturS9WYxIzIiQEXgmVLPWCfUA0Vk0JO3IkaQlsZNoHgWycqfNfA1Yf51v-lAPPbu-rTfrYFjcM9pzFUxLXtUUfMb6gBno/s1600/co+flag+pink.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
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But there were more fences without homes and I had more ideas. </div>
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So... I had a friend send me a wedding invitation and I almost died. I loved it. </div>
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And so another home for some forgotten fence... and a great use (besides washing the cars) for my new power washer. </div>
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P.S. if you're my neighbor, I love a good excuse to power wash.</div>
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It's not set up to play just yet. But it is the classic game of Cornhole... and matches the theme of her invitations! </div>
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I love "trash". </div>
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What can I say. </div>
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<br />Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513006574392411449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313674386323090213.post-21221352726126514272013-03-14T07:21:00.002-07:002013-03-14T07:22:47.816-07:00old stuff rocks.<div style="text-align: center;">
I buy new things now, and I still don't like it. RARELY do I buy something at full price, but when I do it's still such a let down. I know the world has to make money and thats how it all works, but I gotta tell you, most of the things I purchase new aren't so great. </div>
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For example. Before the holidays I was looking for some festive decor that didn't inflate, needed scaffolding to affix or that looked too cheesy... Easier said than done. Insert a thank you to my friends at Pinterest who show me everyone else's good ideas and then I get to steal them for myself. I saw someone had taken an old sled and propped it up by their front door and it looked great. Of course, it's the "inter web" and that means it's public information for not only me but the other 6 billion people of the world. Old sleds would be a challenge. By the grace of God, I walked into my favorite little thrift store and lo and behold... there it was</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfRvGPDxP0l7f8QP4zVAk7NzdNOcafe_ElEYRTETIvGx8oigUI6z0OYVf2zOGgE8hITd6aX6EfgklLPMFmgnJDcLPCg6VQQovmoEbY34ZuLlUlu-_QqWjG5HRN1J9J2TWaL0prF1-PRvGY/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfRvGPDxP0l7f8QP4zVAk7NzdNOcafe_ElEYRTETIvGx8oigUI6z0OYVf2zOGgE8hITd6aX6EfgklLPMFmgnJDcLPCg6VQQovmoEbY34ZuLlUlu-_QqWjG5HRN1J9J2TWaL0prF1-PRvGY/s320/photo+2.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
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it goes nicely with the old golf clubs...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHm7MNAqSarRvTirRqDahG1LGM2Xdbr3MKx3-7yvT3KS69PHwExz4OVQkClldohQkcmHa2F-ztHmN9k-T3amYC9bOiBmQmd0QDHWmnJ-x4nUbIoC0qA5IPblwFtUD7dMY14T4AiKzEL0nJ/s1600/photo-4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHm7MNAqSarRvTirRqDahG1LGM2Xdbr3MKx3-7yvT3KS69PHwExz4OVQkClldohQkcmHa2F-ztHmN9k-T3amYC9bOiBmQmd0QDHWmnJ-x4nUbIoC0qA5IPblwFtUD7dMY14T4AiKzEL0nJ/s320/photo-4.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
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And... yesterday we found this little gem..</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibG_TDJUkcAldn18Mw8f43R6vVGBrchbWmRlSjuNzkg1GIVCQD-_jVZIh0CR1Syx6ev_i9IwpZLIKYfXEdKNF-rSH-1tgDcQReEgWzSkW8RgRZjeA_o_PqyfB70UPGxb4RUdcRTihp85Ma/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibG_TDJUkcAldn18Mw8f43R6vVGBrchbWmRlSjuNzkg1GIVCQD-_jVZIh0CR1Syx6ev_i9IwpZLIKYfXEdKNF-rSH-1tgDcQReEgWzSkW8RgRZjeA_o_PqyfB70UPGxb4RUdcRTihp85Ma/s320/photo+1.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
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Pretty neat that we didn't even realize what a little collection we had started. </div>
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And then. Like an idiot. I went out and bought a brand new soap dispenser...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj140AoQZwshBn57osK2gSK9Su357blzchCpRaM9PuhfYmXHNPG-cD5PXnx4uTo1DmOmw3PrAPMZZqEe-THRINC4b4U58Q5P0Ni0cOwnk0yVlN4SiOaI-DAeYs44qVWIJMmRubeM_H3k8xS/s1600/photo-3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj140AoQZwshBn57osK2gSK9Su357blzchCpRaM9PuhfYmXHNPG-cD5PXnx4uTo1DmOmw3PrAPMZZqEe-THRINC4b4U58Q5P0Ni0cOwnk0yVlN4SiOaI-DAeYs44qVWIJMmRubeM_H3k8xS/s320/photo-3.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
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yep. that's a crack... and crap. </div>
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It's now a rule. Thrift stores must be checked FIRST.</div>
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(quality must be good not just price)</div>
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Maybe this blog should be </div>
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newstuffsucks</div>
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or</div>
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oldstuffrocks</div>
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I suppose since I'm trying to LOVE more this year... I should go with </div>
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WAIT until you see the jacket I found the other day... </div>
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"I wear your grandma's clothes..."</div>
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Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513006574392411449noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313674386323090213.post-80549913495427835032012-08-17T10:41:00.005-07:002012-08-17T10:47:10.598-07:00Rock n Roll Golf?<div style="text-align: center;">
So as many of you know I spend a lot of my time listening to music at the <a href="http://runrocknroll.competitor.com/">Rock n Roll Marathons</a> around the world. I'm continually amazed at what a mood changer music is for me, and from what I can gather on people's faces... I'm not alone. The fact that I get to listen to music all day at my "job" makes me a pretty happy "employee"! ha</div>
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This morning after I came home from a run on a nearby golf course, I overheard the sound of music coming from near the clubhouse. I figured they were getting their day going the same way I do. But upon following the sound that went from AC/DC to Brad Paisley I saw this...</div>
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It's a DJ... On hole #1! </div>
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After a couple of hours of enjoying the music from my house, curiosity got the best of me. I needed to give something away anyway. Yesterday I made a loaf of banana bread to take to my 88 year old neighbor. He said he only needed half of it, he's very healthy, golfs 3 days a week, you get it. So, I had a half a loaf left.</div>
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I grabbed it and a bottle of water and headed over to the golf course. The DJ told me he was hired by a company who was having a golf tournament out there and wanted each player to tee off to their favorite song. It's like Rock n Roll Golf! lol. The poor guy is in a suit with a tie and a vest! He was a little surprised by his assignment today but was rather enjoying himself. And I'm rather enjoying his VERY varied playlist. Glad I could find a good home for the rest of the Banana Bread. He was happy to get a little nourishment to keep up the good work. </div>
Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513006574392411449noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313674386323090213.post-28614595174027985792012-08-16T08:19:00.002-07:002012-08-16T08:28:37.646-07:00Give something away everyday So many of you know that last year I attempted to use up a lot of residual toiletries and ribbons and odds and ends and not buy anything new, for one year. It was pretty amazing to see just how long I could survive on the surplus of "stuff" I had laying around the house. But unfortunately... I didn't get rid of as much "stuff" as I had hoped. The year ended June 1st. I headed straight to Target to get some much needed conditioner and a few other items but it was quite anti-climatic... The choices were overwhelming, my credit card was soon marred from all the added swiping at the cash registers and I didn't have you all to talk to about the "challenges" and insights I was having.<br />
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It seems growing up in Iowa where "stuff" isn't as easy to acquire, I became very wary of just buying something I would use or wear once. Therefore... I became just as wary of giving it away. Unless my clothes were worn out (<i>even then there were always patches that could be added)</i> they were "perfectly useful" according to my mother. It probably didn't help that my love affair with overalls, umbros and anything in shocking neon colors was, usually, a bit of a stretch to reproduce, and so I hold onto....<br />
a lot...<br />
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"Ann, are those the same overalls you insisted on wearing when we were in college?"<br />
"Ann, I can't believe you still have those earrings I gave you in 8th grade..."<br />
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I learned that if you wait long enough, things come back. And in the meantime, when they aren't "in" you never have to worry about someone showing up to an event in the same outfit... right?<br />
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Well, I also have a small obsession with thrift stores. I'm always on the lookout for a gift that has "meaning" - usually comedic in nature, but one that someone will always look at, shake their head and smile, remembering it came from me (<i>or so I hope</i>).<br />
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If you saw my house you'd see that my "office" - if you can call it that, is continually the unfinished project... Making decisions about my own "stuff" is unbearably hard, and therefore always a procrastination point for me, but finding the perfect gifts for others... is something, I even spend my nights dreaming about.<br />
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So... I've decided that this year I'd like to give something away everyday. I'm not a millionaire by any means, which is why most "gifts" are finds from thrift stores or creations I've dreamt up and then attempted to create, but that's where they find "meaning"... I think. Either way, the "somethings" will likely vary considerably. I've even decided that when I'm on the road, and may have a little difficulty giving something away per se, I could fill the day with a handful of compliments, maybe some hugs or a candy bar? ha! I'd like to think it will just bring to the forefront of my mind the idea of putting someone else first, if only for a moment, each and every day. <br />
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But do I need to create a new name for the blog? and more importantly... would you read it?<br />
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<br />Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513006574392411449noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313674386323090213.post-72078897205884205682012-06-26T09:49:00.001-07:002012-06-26T09:56:13.396-07:00Puzzle complete, Xterra Triathlon - not so much<div style="text-align: center;">
Ok, so I finally finished the puzzle.</div>
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And I may have become a little obsessed :)</div>
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I tried putting time restrictions on myself. </div>
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Ann, you can only do it while you're eating your cereal in the morning. Well then I'd milk my cereal... pun intended. </div>
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So then I made myself a deal about the number of pieces I could put in before I had to walk away. </div>
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Well some days 10 pieces would take me 10 minutes or less and others it would take an hour... </div>
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<i>(And Lord knows if I got 10 pieces in 10 minutes I'd always bargain with myself for a few more since I was clearly on my A game that morning)</i></div>
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<i>I'd set out to do something around the house and inevitably my feet carried me back to the puzzle table to just finish that "one section"...</i></div>
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Well... I tried my hand at an<a href="http://www.withoutlimits.co/#!__xterra-curt-gowdy"> XTERRA </a>triathlon on Sunday and the mountain bike course basically ate me alive. </div>
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I did <i>just</i> get my mountain bike about a month ago, <i>and</i> I've only ridden it a few times, <i>and</i> I got the call last monday asking if I wanted to do the race 6 days later...</div>
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I was in way over my head and crashed trying to be "courageous", not sure if that's the right word... or if I was just sick of walking my bike over every part I thought looked a little too "technical" or "terrifying". </div>
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Later, I learned that it might be one of the most technical/difficult mountain bike courses... </div>
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This is what I found out... <i>after</i>...</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 21px;">"<b><i>IMBA (International Mountain Bike Association) gives the trails at Curt Gowdy an 'Epic' rating. After riding them today I realize that by 'Epic' they mean 'Apocalyptic'. Jonny rates them 'Crazy Technical'.</i></b><br /><br /><i><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><b>"Time for some input on Xterra Curt Gowdy bike course.<br />OK...I agree that it's not mountain biking unless there's blood, but . . . I rode the course last week and all I can say, prepare for carnage. There's "IMBA advanced" and there's "Xterra advanced" and that is one major difficult, technical and long course. Beginners are gonna freak."</b></span></i></span></div>
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Well... I am a beginner, it did draw blood, but I like to think I didn't "freak"... Although I wish I would have had a GoPro if only so that I could share with you my running commentary... ha</div>
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Not surprising... I took a spill and banged up my shin and my knee pretty badly so it needed a good icing yesterday. </div>
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Unfortunately... I didn't finish. After hobbling through a few more miles after my wreck, to reach civilization, I knew my knee wasn't going to fare well on the run, and that was <i>if</i> I could make it through the rest of the bike course...</div>
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Well, you can imagine that I was very willing to ice as long as needed, and maybe longer, because it justified just sitting down doing my puzzle. Something I was determined to finish, especially because of the events the day before. However, I am a little torn because I've been perusing the thrift stores in search of the next puzzle and I haven't really found anything I love... I hope I don't feel too empty without another one to work on... yet :)</div>
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And so here it is.</div>
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But after all that work I'm not exactly motivated to tear it all a part and move on. </div>
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How long do you enjoy a puzzle after you've finished it?</div>
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<br /></div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513006574392411449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313674386323090213.post-83586641227976383622012-06-07T10:13:00.001-07:002012-06-07T10:20:45.871-07:00too many choices...<div style="text-align: center;">
I spent an hour at Target the other day...</div>
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This is what I came home with. </div>
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I can't believe how many choices there are... and new brands even!</div>
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I thought for sure I'd sidle up to the Pantene section and find some intensive restorative type conditioner... which my hair needs, and they're selection was almost non-existent. When I stopped buying things last year I could have sworn they were the ones with all the selection in that category, but I couldn't find anything...</div>
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Then I went to the lotion section and of course my main requirement is smell. Well the one I love the most Aveeno with the purple accents is $8 for a medium sized bottle!<br />
So I settled for the next best smell at a reasonable price.</div>
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I got that whole St. Ives one for $4. </div>
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I didn't run out of lotion during my year and after the sticker shock of my trip I'm ready to suck it up even more. Maybe I should have taken a few more trips to the stores just to make myself feel better! ha</div>
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I gotta tell you, buying new things isn't exactly what I thought it was going to be...</div>
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:) </div>
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The grass is always greener.<br />
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On the other hand... I did get my Victoria's Secret Swimsuit! and it's pretty awesome</div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513006574392411449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313674386323090213.post-86925372565111153852012-06-01T05:43:00.003-07:002012-06-01T06:30:27.367-07:00Rainbows and Striped Socks<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">“Ann, the world isn’t all rainbows and striped socks...”</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I furrowed my brow. Of course the world isn’t all rainbows and striped socks. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I’ve suffered through tax season, and caucus raucous, been delayed at airports for days and gotten teary phone calls from parents diagnosed with cancer. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I traded in my SUV for a hybrid when gas hit $5 a gallon and been glued to the TV as the severity and consequences of natural disasters and corporate scandals rocked the world. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Just recently I read in dismay, the treatment of POW’s in Japan during WWII, especially one Louis Zamperini.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">But I’ve also been the recipient of a much needed refund check, at the right time. The appreciation that someone else is willing to run for public office, because I’m sure not. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">A few of those delayed flights resulted in meeting some of my closest friends <i>and</i> one influential Southwest employee who was able to bring Lorna Doones back... The “cancer card”, well just ask my dad who is now acutely aware and actively embracing “eating healthy” - a realization only the diagnosis of cancer could provide him. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">That hybrid not only saved me money in gas, but fit so much better in those tiny little Southern California parking spaces. Those natural disasters and corporate scandals helped put in check my annoyance with a little “May gray” and a few reminders as I entered the working world... about making a “good” living - as in quality not quantity. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">And Louis Zamperini??? I can’t tell you how many conversations just the mention of his name or the book about him, Unbroken, has facilitated. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">And I can promise you that today isn’t anything like liberation from a POW camp, or the checkup ensuring the cancer hasn’t returned...</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Today is the day. The year is up. The imaginary locks at Target, and online shopping carts have been removed. It’s kind of like Black Friday... or should I say Neon Friday in my case... but maybe you should know something about Black Friday. My mother goes to bed early and sets an alarm... I furrow my brow and squint my eyes as she calls me from inside the chaos ridden stores. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I <i>will</i> be purchasing conditioner, lotion, mascara and out of pure symbolism... a new pair of neon socks... But that’s because this weekend marks the beginning of a “job” where for a few hours in the early Sunday morning hours - my world really is all rainbows and striped socks, and always "something new"</span>...<br />
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Swarms of colored jerseys supporting various causes cheer at the top of their lungs. Parents and children stand side by side and pat each other on the back, people dressed as crayons, super hero’s, Gumby, Elvis, Mickey and Minnie... And couples who have found running and training has helped them with “empty nest” syndrome, and groups of friends who have made t-shirts and trained together and can’t wait to cross this off their bucket lists. A rainbow of runners starts my day and the last finisher and the dedicated supporters stay until the end as we reach that pot of gold at the finish line... it never get's "old"... does that mean it's "new"?</div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">The Rock n Roll Marathon was born in San Diego 15 years ago. The idea of music and running took off and now with almost 30 events this year they’ve so graciously allowed me and my striped socks and high fiving, dancing ways to join in the fun. As I sit here writing this I can promise you I still have too many clothes. I’ve given away multiple pairs of shoes and jackets and various other pieces but I still have too much. And I didn’t even get through all the awful lotions because sometimes I would just forgo lotion all together... I hated the smells that badly. This year was a great way to re-form an “old” habit. But now that I’ve gotten this far, it seems silly to jump back on the bandwagon, completely. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I’ll actually be sewing on my flight to San Diego. I’ve taken two pairs of old Umbro shorts, cut them apart and will be making a skirt for the Rock n Roll race this weekend. I suppose I could have stopped by a store to see what I could buy, but what’s the fun in explaining that when people start asking :)</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I’m having too much fun “creating” and “building” and of course the storytelling of the adventures... and conversations that take place during the adventure. Thanks to my ADHD brain, my mind is always running away from me so I’m sure I’ll have plenty more “projects”. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">This summer I’ll be embarking on not one but two week long bike trips... and I’m not even that big of a biker. Yesterday I fell off my bike at the top of a mountain thanks to my jello legs... As I sat there, pulling myself together it dawned on me... maybe I should try no swearing for a year... especially during biking weeks :) </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">My goal this year is to try and keep an eye out for the rainbow even when the clouds are thick, and pull up those striped socks and make my own if I have to. </span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I guess maybe starting today... it will be a year of seeing something "new" everyday.</span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span></div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513006574392411449noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313674386323090213.post-41637318070798375582012-05-29T16:21:00.003-07:002012-05-29T20:05:00.020-07:00Home...<div style="text-align: center;">
Even though food has always been "in" and by "food" I do include beverages...</div>
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I have really come to enjoy a few things even more this year. </div>
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This, unassuming, dare I say it "blended" wine is quite amazing...</div>
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but more than the flavor, it will forever signify the night I finally went "home"...</div>
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And what a name... ha <a href="http://www.menageatroiswines.com/">Menage a Trois.</a> </div>
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The breeze was subtle, the stars were twinkling <i>(you can see them there), </i>and my mind was reminiscing.</div>
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How many spring and even more summer nights I spent under the stars in Iowa. How many nights I insisted on camping in tents, on the trampoline, inside various forts made out of those huge Maytag appliance boxes, in lounge chairs, in the back of our van, on the roof of our van, on the roof of our house... they never let me camp there...</div>
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Almost inevitably I'd wake up wet with dew, eaten alive by mosquitos, to my mother shaking me awake because the tornado sirens were going off (<i>i'm a deep sleeper) </i>or to the feel of wet heavy cardboard boxes on top of me and the flow of water beneath me - since I insisted to sleep at the bottom of the hill... We later learned to use a tarp if we could rig one up, although it still didn't protect us from the dew. But it didn't matter. It was our own "place". Those forts were our castles, huts on stilts perched above the ocean, or dream homes, high rise apartment buildings, anything we'd seen or heard or read about. We'd even stay up late and make extravagant meals in our "other lives". Decorating the plate of pasta with leaves from celery, pretending to season like we'd seen the professionals do, with only a jar of parmesan and salt and pepper. And candles, a necessity... as we sat down to enjoy our fine dining experience before venturing back to our "homes" in the backyard. As a kid, I always imagined my life somewhere else. </div>
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But the other night.... it dawned on me as I sat on my parents porch, eating a pasta dinner I made for them, that my "imagination" then... had become a reality - in some ways I suppose. </div>
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Here I was plucking fresh basil from their plant, tossing in the olive oil and tomatoes and serving it to them. We talked about the "castles" I saw while I was in Scotland and showed them pictures from our ocean front view in Kona... </div>
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But after they'd all gone to bed... I stayed out on the back patio and took it all in. </div>
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The 'ex peer iences' I've had in my life have taken me all over the world. I've met and high-fived close to a half a million people at <a href="http://runrocknroll.competitor.com/">Rock N Roll Marathons</a>. I've been inside Hendrick Motorsports garages and had my ear drums blown out at a <a href="http://www.nascar.com/">NASCAR</a> race. I've drank wine on a yacht in Italy and rolled my own cigar at the Plasencia family farm for <a href="http://www.alecbradley.com/">Alec Bradley Cigars </a>in Honduras... but that night, sitting on that porch, feeling that breeze, and taking in that moment... might go down as one of the best feelings in the world. I moved into the hammock in the backyard and had one of those moments when the magnitude of the world hits you as you gaze up at the stars...</div>
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Not only was it home, in the springtime, my family nearby and a great glass of wine in my hand, I was enjoying this place all to myself while the the rest of the world was asleep... but the most fascinating realization I had was that...it wasn't "new".</div>
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I'd been here before, countless times before. But it wasn't until then that I finally understood Thomas Wolfe's quote "you can't go home again". </div>
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Home is never the same because, <i>you're</i> never the same.<br />
So many nights I imagined "home" to be something else, somewhere else.<br />
But that night... I was there. Fully there. I didn't want to be anywhere else.<br />
I was home... perhaps for the first time.<br />
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<br /></div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513006574392411449noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313674386323090213.post-3727357645721176442012-05-25T14:10:00.002-07:002012-05-29T11:28:17.263-07:00n...eon<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">I take it back... </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">I've avoided Target like the black plague since I decided to try and not buy anything new for a year.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">For obvious, unnecessary, but hard to quell... $60 purchases. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">I even managed to have my doctor elongate my prescriptions so that I wouldn't have to walk in there every month to get my Thyroid medicine. Yes I have <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hypothyroidism">hypothyroidism</a>. One of the worst the medical team had ever seen... but I won't bore you with that... back to Target.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">I hadn't been in Target in 3 months...</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">I went in to pick up my prescription the other day and since June 1st is knocking at my door, I thought I'd just take a gander through the store - mainly the women's clothing section. For the first time in quite some time, I didn't just beeline my way to the pharmacy and then high tail it out of there for fear of breaking down... and I'm not quite sure if what I'm feeling is elation or fear or a mix of both. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">You see....</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">At a very young age I found a pair of Neon yellow/green pants at a thrift store with my mom. They were a size 12 - adult women's size 12. Now, although I have a hypothyroid problem, severe weight gain was not one of my symptoms. Size 12 was about 12 sizes too big when I was 10 and about 10 inches too long. That being said, they were the most splendid pair of pants I had ever laid eyes on. My mother didn't even say no. The expression on her face uttered disgust. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">She wanted frilly pink dresses and lacey fold over socks. My father wanted pleated plaid skirts, peter pan collars and after that a nice black and white outfit provided by the "nunnery"...</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">Appealing to her "skills" and her "talents" I utilized what I'd seen my father do countless times, almost always to positive outcomes...</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;"> After a heartfelt, probably over dramatic and paired with my best puppy dog eyes I made my plea... and convincing her she could make these pants fit me... like only SHE could. (<i>blink blink)</i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">With one giant grin on my face and one giant roll from her eyes...we went home and got to work. After cutting almost half of the fabric away, and a few under her breath utterings, she had worked her magic. I think more than anything, her biggest concern with these pants was that if she did indeed make them fit me, I would indeed wear them... in public.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">Mothers know best :)</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">Much to her chagrin...it sprouted an obsession with neon colors I just haven't been able to (<i>or ever wanted to</i>) break. Thrift stores around the country have been scoured in search of anything neon - especially umbros - and until recently it was only thrift stores where I could find these little jewels. American Apparel started carrying more neon a few years ago, but having found most of my neon wear at less than $5 - I had a hard time paying full price. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">Well... as luck would have it - the world has embraced Neon once again. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 13px;">As I slowly approached the women's section at Target my heart started fluttering as the brightness of what appeared to be neon was getting brighter and brighter. Sure enough, Target, has jumped in head first to the world of neon. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0aHunCdo_y3UNAHzaD5GWuckUMBwThVkFKLyIRuG0MNwhMkfrURrKOpn0_5w7E3dMSctBDam68AneovPdvuS3H1Jg_JGNCiOs7et7xFw5W22Mt_uIGL-JvQd-OaDyWvrdg1bDlkQv_tuj/s1600/photo-341.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0aHunCdo_y3UNAHzaD5GWuckUMBwThVkFKLyIRuG0MNwhMkfrURrKOpn0_5w7E3dMSctBDam68AneovPdvuS3H1Jg_JGNCiOs7et7xFw5W22Mt_uIGL-JvQd-OaDyWvrdg1bDlkQv_tuj/s320/photo-341.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
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even leggings! </div>
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I had said there wasn't much I missed, not much I was ready to run out and buy. </div>
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Well I was wrong. </div>
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If only because it might be another 20 years before neon is back!</div>
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I will be making a trip to Target to purchase some very "necessary" neon clothing. </div>
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Talk about money well spent :)</div>
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By the way. </div>
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Neon is Eon with an N for nifty. </div>
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And Eon... well I can only hope "neon" lives up to it's namesake - see definition below. </div>
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<tr><td style="font-size: 10pt; text-align: left;"><span class="hw" style="font-size: 16px; font-weight: bold;">e·on</span> also <b>ae·on</b> <object classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000" codebase="http://fpdownload.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,0,0" height="21" style="margin-bottom: 1px; margin-left: 1px; margin-right: 1px; margin-top: 1px;" width="13"><embed src="http://img.tfd.com/m/sound.swf" flashvars="sound_src=http://img.tfd.com/hm/mp3/E0170700.mp3" menu="false" width="13" height="21" wmode="transparent" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer"></object> <span class="pron" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(128, 158, 131); border-bottom-style: dashed; border-bottom-width: 1px; cursor: pointer;">(<img align="absbottom" src="http://img.tfd.com/hm/GIF/emacr.gif" /><img align="absbottom" src="http://img.tfd.com/hm/GIF/prime.gif" /><img align="absbottom" src="http://img.tfd.com/hm/GIF/obreve.gif" />n<img align="absbottom" src="http://img.tfd.com/hm/GIF/lprime.gif" />, <img align="absbottom" src="http://img.tfd.com/hm/GIF/emacr.gif" /><img align="absbottom" src="http://img.tfd.com/hm/GIF/prime.gif" /><img align="absbottom" src="http://img.tfd.com/hm/GIF/schwa.gif" />n)</span><br />
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<i>n.</i><br />
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<b>1. </b>An indefinitely long period of time; an age.</div>
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</tbody></table>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513006574392411449noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313674386323090213.post-37080544172251477252012-05-24T11:19:00.002-07:002012-05-29T11:27:22.657-07:00Divide... and Garden!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
There isn't much better in life than a perfectly placed hammock and a beautiful day...</div>
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I had flown home to visit my family and give away the infamous puzzle at First Communion. But before things got crazy, I got some good time with my mom. She always comes and crawls in bed really early with me, and wants to chat away. Usually at that time of the day she does most of the chatting and I do most of the "listening"...</div>
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As my eyes adjusted to the sunshine pouring through the windows and the little breeze that was blowing through I realized it was spring in Iowa. Usually I see Iowa the last week of the most hot and humid month of the year as we ride our bikes across the state with the other 30,000 crazies on RAGBRAI - July. Or... I arrive to driving snow and 20 below... for Christmas. </div>
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I'd forgotten that May in Iowa is quite possibly the most beautiful Spring the world sees. </div>
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The weather is perfect, there is no humidity, the flowers are blooming, the smell of freshly cut grass and the sound of mowers can be heard almost daily. Kids are graduating or just getting ready for summer vacation and because winter kept everyone holed up, the energy and excitement of warmer weather is absolutely intoxicating. I moved our conversation from my old room to the blooming backyard hammock. </div>
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As we rocked in the hammock she told me about another year finishing up as an elementary special ed teacher. How things have changed so much since she first started teaching more than 45 years ago. Of course the topic with most midwesterners always shifts to the weather and especially planting. Living in California for the past 6 years with hardly a patch of grass to call my own, planting hasn't exactly been on on my radar. Noticing other peoples plants, gardens, yards... hasn't either. But my mother, as you can imagine, since we're related, wanted to tell me all about the yard, the plants she had chosen, why she put them in certain locations, how she fertilized them, how mad she was at all the "damn" rabbits that ate away... at everything! and most importantly how proud I should be of her because she was swimming in Hosta's. They're the green plant that is in abundance in this picture...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMHISmh0_vsrguUj2h8bqWm2GLWa4QrLrr7R7WpBp4kN-DRkSZjkIWRqjrfgVNVIh4p8tK5O_gxXX-J21QCkBZ6pCLY_9dJxD_FLrJEl6ZzXxz2CNG1fDtNzutMlGykLAFcf6p22kvBxrt/s1600/image.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMHISmh0_vsrguUj2h8bqWm2GLWa4QrLrr7R7WpBp4kN-DRkSZjkIWRqjrfgVNVIh4p8tK5O_gxXX-J21QCkBZ6pCLY_9dJxD_FLrJEl6ZzXxz2CNG1fDtNzutMlGykLAFcf6p22kvBxrt/s320/image.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I didn't know if I was supposed to be glad that she had managed to keep them alive or glad that they accented her yard... I didn't know exactly what to say since I haven't reached that point in my life where I understand or appreciate gardening. </div>
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Well it turns out she had been working with one Hosta plant at the beginning. A Hosta that had been given to her as a gift. </div>
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We moved around a lot as a kid and she told me how when they would move to a new house with a new yard she counted on Hosta's to grow pretty easily, look nicely in any yard, and how they were a very economical plant. And she had become known amongst all our old neighbors for loving them... since they saw them at every house we ever bought. </div>
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Economical? You can't eat them, you don't really sell any part of them, and they don't even flower.... How were they economical?</div>
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Well, she said, it was given to me, as a gift. One plant. And over the years as it's grown and comes back... it's a perennial... I've divided it and re-planted it all over the yard. </div>
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Therefore... I have managed to decorate my yard without buying any new plants... in a few years...</div>
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Nothingnewforayear... try nothingnewforafewyears! </div>
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Touche :)</div>
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Maybe I should take up gardening and see what I can do. This is why you should spend more time rocking in hammocks... listening to your mothers... </div>
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right mom?</div>
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ha</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJTKxUTKQXj0rFU4fMn8ZFu1Hf7A08FJGKM-vd8kqTtxMu-a5_cFZ_ET2S84LH07YBS9TvX8feoyoU2YvEQpvNrEPgQNEUJ9leSPPJq76JYG0a4ym7jLAHWY_aHeK6vbaK5yKRPqzBzyuy/s1600/image_1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJTKxUTKQXj0rFU4fMn8ZFu1Hf7A08FJGKM-vd8kqTtxMu-a5_cFZ_ET2S84LH07YBS9TvX8feoyoU2YvEQpvNrEPgQNEUJ9leSPPJq76JYG0a4ym7jLAHWY_aHeK6vbaK5yKRPqzBzyuy/s320/image_1.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513006574392411449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313674386323090213.post-53552380066521292232012-05-21T10:08:00.001-07:002012-05-21T10:08:32.395-07:00Puzzling puzzles<div style="text-align: center;">
I should have known...</div>
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There isn't much more exciting to 2nd graders than going to an amusement park... certainly not puzzles :)</div>
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We put the puzzle together and I flipped it over... and she just looked at me. </div>
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I asked her what it said, my fault, I don't have the best handwriting, so she struggled a bit. When she finished... I was beaming. She smiled and asked if we could do another one...</div>
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:)</div>
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We did. We had a lot of fun. Stayed up late...</div>
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And the next day she cried when she found out her sisters had been to the amusement park while we had been at her little retreat... but I'm holding steadfast that someday she'll think our puzzle and our day together was cooler... ? ha</div>
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Even though I don't think she fully grasps it now, I hope that in years to come, she'll think back fondly.</div>
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Until then. It will hang in her room, our secret veiled behind Alice's Wonderland.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9RFbx4pVpS5EgU1EXNFK4pxUgsxnuARv15IOv1CBJwY3syU4f6PWbiCvIxYinE7xnlXwnD10nLo01W6B4y3qCSulN5sAcPQI7rf8zsW91iwPa2xRNnrIAglFpm7itNSdGp6-KsLKL1YFp/s1600/image_1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9RFbx4pVpS5EgU1EXNFK4pxUgsxnuARv15IOv1CBJwY3syU4f6PWbiCvIxYinE7xnlXwnD10nLo01W6B4y3qCSulN5sAcPQI7rf8zsW91iwPa2xRNnrIAglFpm7itNSdGp6-KsLKL1YFp/s320/image_1.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div>
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We just took clear contact paper and put it on the backside . That way when you take the back off the picture you can see it, but only then. It's kind of neat, knowing we have our own little secret message. Maybe neater for me than for her :) </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFZAuOm_oWT5xphiquV2hD3S-DdTtWN66eJ5ZQ_ZPNMOLPyY9QVfwoI7rcvbsww4bq_ViBnThHe1VkaVDOfZ1DWBkSy0yH-M3tQerEtvcnc3OnAHBsgYaMBSbQMLoOfsOlJ7YC4_uhdkji/s1600/puzzlemessage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFZAuOm_oWT5xphiquV2hD3S-DdTtWN66eJ5ZQ_ZPNMOLPyY9QVfwoI7rcvbsww4bq_ViBnThHe1VkaVDOfZ1DWBkSy0yH-M3tQerEtvcnc3OnAHBsgYaMBSbQMLoOfsOlJ7YC4_uhdkji/s320/puzzlemessage.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I guess the secret is out... but if you ever get a puzzle from me - the real puzzle will be... what it REALLY says :) </div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513006574392411449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313674386323090213.post-53540295486531758562012-05-18T16:50:00.002-07:002012-05-18T16:50:21.404-07:00Bags and Burlap<div style="text-align: center;">
My one aunt loves carrots and having her feet rubbed, I know this because my mom points it out to me every time I open a bag of carrots or ask her to rub my feet :)</div>
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I can't remember much, but for some reason I have a thing for numbers like my grandmother... also an attribute my mother reminds me of... often.</div>
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Well, today she told me I remind her of my great aunt Helen too </div>
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- among my stubborn, impatient, and independence seeking qualities ... she was apparently also very resourceful. </div>
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She was living on a remote farm in Montana with her husband and children and of course money was tight, but more than that, availability of products was pretty much non-existent. So... she started salvaging old "gunny sacks" (<i>the burlap bags that potatoes and other goods would come in</i>) and she re-purposed them. Not to be outdone by all the city women who had the luxury of ordering from catalogues and decorating their homes she got creative with what she had. </div>
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She started dyeing the burlap bags and making things. Drapes, chair covers, you name it. Funny thing is... burlap wasn't revered as glamorous then, which is why she dyed it... not the case these days. Burlap is back!</div>
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Old Aunt Helen... the pioneer for not buying anything new... I guess all the pioneers were :)</div>
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Well Aunt Helen would be happy to know that although she has no idea what Pinterest or any other website is... she was a trendsetter. </div>
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Paper bags are kind of my thing. They're sort of the burlap of today. Not sure I should attempt drapes with it but I do love the color and feel for just about everything. Looks like it goes hand in hand with burlap :)</div>
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Trader Joes bags are my burlap sacks. </div>
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Too bad most things I buy aren't packaged in burlap because in order to get it these days you kind of have to go down to the store and buy it... new. </div>
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I know "everything has been done before" but in this case, I'm glad it's resourcefulness and not just the same old love song...</div>
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(<i>who am I kidding I'll always be a sap for the mushy ballads </i>:)<i> and now burlap too. ha</i></div>
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Maybe when the year is up I'll do some decorating with Burlap in homage to my Great Aunt Helen's resourceful ways and in gratitude for passing it along... not to mention it might get me a few pins on Pinterest! ha</div>
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<i>(I don't quite understand that site but it's on my "to-do" list)</i></div>
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<br /></div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513006574392411449noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313674386323090213.post-45453284568088988502012-05-16T14:30:00.000-07:002012-05-29T11:28:58.302-07:00June 1st wish list<div style="text-align: center;">
The most asked question - after how the dog is... who is doing great! :) Thank you all! ha<br />
So the next question is...</div>
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What are you going to buy when the year is up?</div>
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It seems like such a monumental occasion. </div>
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It seems like I should buy something just because I can. </div>
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But what do I really need?</div>
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Aside from some conditioner, mascara, and my favorite perfume </div>
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(My obsession with smell... obvious)</div>
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Surprisingly enough, I'm not dying to buy anything in particular. I guess not anything "new". In fact, it's almost become such a fun "challenge" to find things "old"... it doesn't seem as fun to go shopping in a regular store.<br />
Just this weekend I was talking to some girls who asked about the skirt i was wearing. I had to break it to them it came from a thrift store, so the likelihood of them getting one of their own was slim to none. But when I told them about the whole nothingnewforayear thing you could see the wheels turning. From cool vintage tables and funky lamps... to outfits that you'll rarely have to worry about seeing show up at the same party - there's a lot of fun that has come out of this year.</div>
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Of course throughout the year I certainly hit low points. Moments where I wanted to be able to just pick up and buy something I saw online or in a shop... and maybe it's my bad memory, or maybe it's just that unimportant... that I can't really recall that many things that have been haunting me this year. </div>
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I can only recall two things. </div>
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And because I prefer "new" swimsuits... </div>
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Although I would ante up for that tan and a body like that if it's for purchase :)</div>
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I've entertained the idea of trying to go to the grocery store with a list, and challenging myself not to go back to the grocery store until all the food is gone... Which would not only make meals interesting... lol. but it would also make me think more about what I really want to eat and not being so wasteful. But I travel a lot so it wouldn't be nearly as interesting as if I was home most of the time and trying to work it around multiple meals a day. </div>
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I gave up sweets for Lent and when it was over - the flood gates opened! I'm almost afraid to do that because it's so easy to fall back into bad habits...<br />
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There are a few things I'd like to be able to buy regularly... as you can imagine, but for the most part... I really enjoy the thrill of the hunt.<br />
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I guess I'll have to see how I wake up on June 1st and let you know.<br />
<br /></div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513006574392411449noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313674386323090213.post-86773820824712544482012-05-14T11:56:00.002-07:002012-05-14T11:58:58.202-07:00Annapolis by recommendation<div style="text-align: center;">
This weekend I was in Annapolis Maryland for the <a href="http://trirock.competitor.com/annapolis/">Land Rover TriRock Annapolis Race</a></div>
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Not only did I debut a new swim cap dress - which was made from a box of leftover swim caps and a very long skirt I picked up from the thrift store... </div>
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but I also was given a good "roadmap"for a proper weekend spent in the city that houses the US Naval Academy. </div>
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So we were by default by the Naval Academy because that's where our event was... and it was beautiful... but on to the "painkiller" at Pussers. </div>
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The most interesting part of this restaurant/bar was that the outside bar is dockside - without any fences. I asked the police crew helping us with the race how many people go in every year (there is a ladder) and they said about... one. What!? lol they must be so much better behaved than I imagined. It's almost guaranteed that if I spent too much time there I would definitely find myself doing a cannon ball into the water - especially after a few more Painkillers. ha</div>
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But I managed to behave - this time.</div>
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Then ironically enough I met up with a few friends and they took me to Sly Fox... it was like they knew!</div>
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And when I went back to the docks to help sticker our transition area... look what this young man had waiting for me. The last piece of pizza from Mangia. </div>
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And last but not least... it wasn't on the list... but catching the sunrise at City Docks, should be added.</div>
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A weekend to remember without spending a dime - except on a couple of stops to Jimmy John's... and Starbucks :)</div>
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I don't think keeping up not buying anything new for a year in some aspects will be that hard. In fact I think it's just re-trained my brain to go back to the way I was raised. Some things I WILL go back to buying! ha. </div>
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Although I'll think twice... The bathroom cabinets just look so much nicer when they're not cluttered!</div>
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<br /></div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513006574392411449noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313674386323090213.post-53158601750621072762012-05-09T14:20:00.001-07:002012-05-14T12:00:41.869-07:00Inciting Inspiration<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
So the year is almost up... but I've been reminded that although I've abstained from "new" things... I have found quite a few "old" things... maybe a few too many. But I think the thrift store has incited inspiration. </div>
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I fell in love with that table I sanded down and eventually just sealed. It's beautiful and it made me really appreciate good craftsmanship and old pieces that just need a little love to bring them back to life. </div>
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I have a friend who is expecting a baby. Ok, I have a few friends expecting babies, so I've been on high alert for cute baby things. Of course, buying "old" things for babies isn't typically "welcomed". Germs, and stuff I guess :) So I've stayed clear, for the most part of the baby section at thrift stores, but what about furniture? I saw this absolutely, ridiculously cute, high chair and got downright giddy at the thought of busting out that sander again, working some TLC into it and and gifting this cute chair to a very deserving, yet-to-be-born little person. </div>
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But maybe not everyone loves "old" things like I do...</div>
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I walked away... only to find this...</div>
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If only it had been a few months earlier... Joey McIntyre could have really felt my dedication...</div>
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And if that wasn't enough...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9NKOUdye1QXkC74UDBAOwsTVTJHrI6HTw8Mzeh5p2VCpaaVF1icM_CvXCKyfTjTGMkRJI93wva1t7-lYCdphC6Vx4pxv06Jfb6H_fL2Uh8zcdMxEi3eiXWioh9rCOWOiiqnWeMEGoGAwC/s1600/image_1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9NKOUdye1QXkC74UDBAOwsTVTJHrI6HTw8Mzeh5p2VCpaaVF1icM_CvXCKyfTjTGMkRJI93wva1t7-lYCdphC6Vx4pxv06Jfb6H_fL2Uh8zcdMxEi3eiXWioh9rCOWOiiqnWeMEGoGAwC/s320/image_1.jpeg" width="239" /></a></div>
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If my puzzle hobby gets old... and I take up golfing... These sparkly little gems would definitely go well with my striped socks...</div>
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Just kidding! </div>
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I know all you serious golfers are dying a quiet death imagining me showing up to play a few holes in that outfit... don't worry - I'd stay on the chipping green :)</div>
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But you can see my dilemma! When the thrift stores offer you so many possibilities - it's hard to walk away. Especially when you realize that for just $10 that high chair could end up amazing or an utter disaster... but I'm only out 10 bucks! I mean that's less than one woodworking lesson - </div>
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that's an assumption - i'm not sure how much woodworking lessons cost.</div>
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But... I should tell you about a new friend I met. I was in Costco a few weeks ago and saw a woman who looked very familiar. My first guess was that she was from Iowa. She looked at me funny and assured me she was not from Iowa. I couldn't place her, but I knew her. Finally she said she was on a home improvement type show. </div>
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When I moved to Canada in 2002 I only got a few channels in my dorm room, and it was winter. I watched marathons of a home improvement show that was on one of the 4 channels I got. It really inspired me to take more risks, be more creative (big picture stuff) and instantly I placed her. </div>
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She was Amy Wynn from TRADING SPACES</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyzE2ueFYoy1vEMBCNOO46pAos5Tg9OL9JhnFGqb-0GPhOqtpDafbsmyc58tuL7WMhNguojxywOxTJp0UpAcFTaeWsl3jfi9rgEbg77vol_eSd7TL89ZmvwhHu1U0VATDxzGb8oPFe_mGC/s1600/0696222884.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyzE2ueFYoy1vEMBCNOO46pAos5Tg9OL9JhnFGqb-0GPhOqtpDafbsmyc58tuL7WMhNguojxywOxTJp0UpAcFTaeWsl3jfi9rgEbg77vol_eSd7TL89ZmvwhHu1U0VATDxzGb8oPFe_mGC/s320/0696222884.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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It's like it was meant to be. That table was all sanded down just waiting for my next move, and who walks into my life... It's amazing how when you just "let go and let life happen" how it can work out better than you planned. </div>
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Anyway. I managed to walk away from all three of those fantastic finds... but it's amazing how much more inspiration I can conjure up at a thrift store than I can flipping through a catalogue... why is that?</div>
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Because out of desperation comes inspiration!</div>
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<br />Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513006574392411449noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313674386323090213.post-61523173237091358082012-05-03T09:33:00.001-07:002012-05-14T12:01:35.525-07:00Putting the pieces together...<div style="text-align: center;">
What do you get kids these days for gifts?</div>
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I've played the, "let's try and be the coolest aunt and somehow produce that elusive, all the kids want it, gift"... or the nice piece of jewelry to try and instill appreciation and value... I've even tried the "experience" of a water park or hike to see the majestic wonders of the world... and it seems kids these days would rather have video games and movies - at least until they've learned every line or mastered every level. </div>
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Kids are hard to please, so I've stopped trying to construct what it is that will make them happy and decided to give them what I want to give them. </div>
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I didn't get a choice as a kid. </div>
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Christmas "lists" or Birthday "lists" didn't exist. You got what you got. If that meant new socks, or just a card, or newspaper clippings from your aunt who thought you'd enjoy them... - you smiled and appreciated that someone thought of you. Gifts were gifts... not requests. </div>
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Well... my nieces first communion is soon and as her Godmother I will be flying home to Iowa to be there and of course I like giving gifts, and my first knee jerk reaction was that since it's not quite June 1st yet, I was going to be pressured to get her something "new" because kids are hard to please. And then - inspiration struck. </div>
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Standing in the toy section at the ARC thrift store I saw puzzles. Lots of puzzles. 1,000 piece puzzles, 10 piece puzzles. When was the last time you did a puzzle?? Maybe you're a puzzle person, but I haven't done very many puzzles and I certainly haven't done one recently, but I like puzzles. </div>
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I decided I needed a puzzle. Someone told me recently I don't have enough "hobbies". So we're giving puzzles a shot. </div>
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Then it hit me. I saw a really pretty Alice in Wonderland puzzle that has a lot of pinks and purples, just like my nieces bedroom and I thought maybe she'd enjoy putting it together with me while I was home and then we could frame it and put it in her room... </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgosFmmFPCc8ZoGb4kPPrbX76e37ZaMTuqlwwNKfNFg436cFNzeYLrb9zabjVqtJPdWM3Q3mA7K8_Rn_IfDQYhb-TQaujQt-y0c4dB7vbi9Fr0MTm_fZsN8uyovxKAmC54_0QRyx6it4asA/s1600/toripuzzle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgosFmmFPCc8ZoGb4kPPrbX76e37ZaMTuqlwwNKfNFg436cFNzeYLrb9zabjVqtJPdWM3Q3mA7K8_Rn_IfDQYhb-TQaujQt-y0c4dB7vbi9Fr0MTm_fZsN8uyovxKAmC54_0QRyx6it4asA/s320/toripuzzle.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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But I wanted it to mean more. </div>
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So I ran home and put the puzzle together, flipped it over and wrote a message to her on the back. Then, I took it all apart and put it back in the box and wrapped it up. Now, she HAS to put it together in order to get the secret message! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFZAuOm_oWT5xphiquV2hD3S-DdTtWN66eJ5ZQ_ZPNMOLPyY9QVfwoI7rcvbsww4bq_ViBnThHe1VkaVDOfZ1DWBkSy0yH-M3tQerEtvcnc3OnAHBsgYaMBSbQMLoOfsOlJ7YC4_uhdkji/s1600/puzzlemessage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFZAuOm_oWT5xphiquV2hD3S-DdTtWN66eJ5ZQ_ZPNMOLPyY9QVfwoI7rcvbsww4bq_ViBnThHe1VkaVDOfZ1DWBkSy0yH-M3tQerEtvcnc3OnAHBsgYaMBSbQMLoOfsOlJ7YC4_uhdkji/s320/puzzlemessage.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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I could have stopped there, but as I mentioned I also bought one of these $2 puzzles for myself. </div>
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The 1,000 piece kind...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMQiZaZcfinHb38l3sMinmK2sdtbCaJqUUmL7VBJnmfSJk_y1YnJJr5cNQ-UMgGy64F-Fwj6fNaok-k79Qdd4acAOwRn04E6gkQ2oK2fU0AqDQNHoPbyHOJuoKR3V6KAHbxy9kErBtWnfW/s1600/image_3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMQiZaZcfinHb38l3sMinmK2sdtbCaJqUUmL7VBJnmfSJk_y1YnJJr5cNQ-UMgGy64F-Fwj6fNaok-k79Qdd4acAOwRn04E6gkQ2oK2fU0AqDQNHoPbyHOJuoKR3V6KAHbxy9kErBtWnfW/s320/image_3.jpeg" width="239" /></a></div>
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It made me think. </div>
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As I opened the box it smelled like a campfire. </div>
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Not smoke, like cigarettes, but a campfire. I imagined the people who had it last, sitting at their cabin on the lake (<i>just like the picture</i>) putting away their cell phones, and their computers, TV's, video games, and putting a puzzle together.... together. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcJMrHLofheDbm9vvGf4PXOmjndV-U2eF_hC01N_3fNUUjMO0pCRPnmtaYUUUBEJfXfJc1uYqCyqOhlhg9HYYcjv-VvIfAZa_CEsRneXySZNy-o0e9BpfAVuusBcclkDhhtn-wIKkkRJYp/s1600/image_4.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcJMrHLofheDbm9vvGf4PXOmjndV-U2eF_hC01N_3fNUUjMO0pCRPnmtaYUUUBEJfXfJc1uYqCyqOhlhg9HYYcjv-VvIfAZa_CEsRneXySZNy-o0e9BpfAVuusBcclkDhhtn-wIKkkRJYp/s320/image_4.jpeg" width="239" /></a></div>
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I liked imagining that setting. The conversations that probably took place as they ate popcorn, or drank wine, and everybody mindlessly enjoyed a simple pleasure of a puzzle, with the complex pleasures that each person added to that table. The camaraderie and competition and fun they had, made me want to share this puzzle again. </div>
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When I was in Kindergarten my mom ripped down the wallpaper in our basement and to our surprise the people who had put the wallpaper up about 10 years before had written on the walls. The messages were about what was going on the world at the time, how much gas prices were, and a little about themselves, where they were from and what they liked to do. It was so interesting and unexpected. We left messages of our own just in case someone wanted to tear down our wallpaper someday too!</div>
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As I unloaded that puzzle I thought... what if I put this puzzle together, flipped it over and wrote a little message in one corner... then, donated it to another thrift store (<i>best case scenario in another city or state in my travels</i>) and it could be like one of those dollar bills you can check online to see where it's been... </div>
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<a href="http://www.wheresgeorge.com/">http://www.wheresgeorge.com/</a></div>
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Or maybe I should leave a riddle or a "puzzle" for the next person to figure out, and then they can leave one for the next person!<br />
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My dad used to write riddles in my lunch as a kid - addressed to our lunch table he called "the lunch bunch" We loved it!<br />
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Anyway. I'm going to give it a shot. </div>
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It might take a little while to get the thing together, but I'm going to do my best, leave a message or a 'puzzle', and like the movie Serendipity.... send it out to the world, and see what comes back. </div>
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And to think it's all because I decided to pick up a hobby... and couldn't buy anything new :)</div>
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<br /></div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513006574392411449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313674386323090213.post-21968623305455216482012-05-01T15:46:00.000-07:002012-05-14T12:03:38.367-07:00May Day!<div style="text-align: center;">
It's one of my favorite days of the year. </div>
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As a kid I remember coming home to a dixie cup on our front stoop one day. Inside was popcorn and raisins and M&M's. </div>
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It had a pipe cleaner for a handle and that was it. No note. No clues. </div>
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My mom's eyes got big and said... It's May Day! I was still perplexed. </div>
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We ran inside and frantically began digging through our cupboards to see what we could find. It became a trail mix of sorts. Some cereal, with popcorn, whatever nuts we had and marshmallows. We didn't have dixie cups so I vaguely remember using coffee filters or something! lol</div>
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Either way I was so elated with the idea that for no reason other than the fact that it was the first of May, we randomly got a little basket of goodness on our front steps! And it wasn't the only one... The moms in the neighborhood must have all realized or at least caught on that this is what we did. So as we headed out the door armed with our own little "May baskets" to deliver, we stumbled upon a few more baskets sitting on our front porch. </div>
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I learned that the idea is not to be seen or "caught" giving away your May baskets. So my mom and I carefully snuck around the neighborhood leaving our little goodies. I still didn't quite understand why we did this... but let's be honest - who cares!? :)</div>
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As I got older of course, May Day became a little less important... especially since it falls during Prom, graduation, First Communion, mowing the lawn... life I suppose. But when I went away to college it hit me on the first of May one day and I ran home and made the most elaborate May Baskets I'd ever made. </div>
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They were peanut butter Rice Krispie treats with Peanut M&M's shaped like hearts and tied with little bows that I delivered to my college girlfriends. They laughed... and then the next year when I was living in Canada and nobody got a May Basket - they started to appreciate the little things. </div>
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I eventually went back and year after year, I've tried my best to remember to keep the tradition alive. </div>
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Eventually it became an expectation at my office. Popcorn balls were a big hit one year and I had 4 of the most beautiful rose bushes outside my apartment building... that each May Day everyone also got a rose... We all know the problem with that though - man did expectations - even from myself, get high! ha ha</div>
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Well... no roses this year - but a lot of little kids live in my neighborhood and I hope if I start out easy with some popcorn, cereal and marshmallows... they'll have something to aspire to just like I did...</div>
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Happy May Day!</div>
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<br /></div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513006574392411449noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313674386323090213.post-47656284059452466102012-04-30T15:08:00.002-07:002012-05-14T12:02:28.915-07:00Unbroken<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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June 1st is quickly approaching. I've of course voiced multiple times about the all important conditioner purchase... Add to that mascara - which I've chosen not to talk much about for fear of retribution from a friend who is fanatic about expiration dates on those types of products but I also have realized that although I am in need of a few things... It's amazing to think of people who go without ANY of those "luxuries". </div>
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I was recently introduced to a book called "Unbroken" - written by the author of Seabiscuit. Which I did not read. Upon probing about the topic - hoping it wasn't another horse story, I was equally unexcited when I was told it was a war story. A little backstory...</div>
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My father was a high school English and History teacher and we spent most of our summer "vacations" traveling to different war monuments <i>(mainly big plaques in front of barren fields</i>) paying our respects to different battlefields and those who lost their lives there. As a kid... I yearned for roller coasters and water parks and going out to eat. Instead... we packed a cooler with carrots, celery, homemade buns, summer sausage, cheese and maybe some cookies (<i>if I made them)</i>, and drove our Pink Chevy full size conversion van to about 40 different states to pay our respects and see the country we were from. No AC, no video games, mainly NPR, and a KOA campground pass.</div>
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Some kids would have taken all that history to heart and become just as enthralled with it all as their father was. I did not. In fact, as is the case in many situations... I probably went in the exact opposite direction. However... as you grow older, I know it sounds cliche, but you start to "appreciate" all those things, yadda yadda yadda, and so I've started to try and resurrect the knowledge and experiences I already have and take a more mature approach. And so... I accepted the recommendation to read Unbroken. </div>
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I'm pretty sure it has nothing to do with my mental shift to be more open - and more with the fact that Louis Zamperini is just absolutely amazing. </div>
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In addition to being an incredibly talented runner and eventually an incredibly talented survivor - this guy made my nothingnewforayear stuff look like a joke. Granted times are a little different for us both, but as a POW in Japan for 2 years, it wasn't anything "new" he didn't get... it was anything at all. </div>
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It seems every time I mention this book, there is almost always someone within earshot who has read the book and attests to the fact that his optimism and drive to live - is unfathomable given his conditions during WWII. </div>
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It almost makes me want to tear down the page and deny that I ever felt upset that I was running out of conditioner or that I stole hotel soaps. I won't because as I said, times are very different now and we obviously have different issues. The point is that, the book is absolutely worth the read and the ultimate picture of someone who went without anything new and then some.... I could go into more detail about just how excruciating his life as a POW was, but I really can't express how much you need to read it for yourself. It will make you not want to ever complain, about anything, ever again. </div>
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If you want a little more here's a review from the New York Times</div>
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<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2010/11/21/books/review/Margolick-t.html?pagewanted=all">Unbroken</a></div>
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P.S. I read it on my Kindle :)</div>
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<br /></div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513006574392411449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313674386323090213.post-30395892548697180742012-04-24T09:26:00.000-07:002012-04-24T09:26:44.295-07:00Stripes from my ceiling to my toes...<div style="text-align: center;">
There is a room in my home that is boring blue. </div>
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Its not so much the blue... but the blah hue. </div>
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But what do you do when you can't buy anything new?</div>
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You dig in the garage and you poke around...</div>
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and if you're lucky another color will be found. </div>
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In my case, all I could find was a gallon of the ordinary white.</div>
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It thought it could really add a little light. </div>
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Depending of course on whether the paint is still ok...</div>
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only one way to find out... open it up and pray...</div>
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As I stood in the room pondering it's fate, </div>
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inspiration came from my beloved box of striped socks and their mates. </div>
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Welcome to the nothingnewforayear circus room :) </div>
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<br /></div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513006574392411449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313674386323090213.post-25848115679251205192012-04-23T08:54:00.001-07:002012-04-23T09:38:20.738-07:00Free upgrade? close enough!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I'll tell you what money can buy you. </div>
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A big beautiful pod. Where you can stretch out, lay down and sleep comfortably on international flights. Don't worry, Jeff Smisek, President of United Airlines told me all about these wonderful new seats for 5 long minutes, as I sat crunched in my economy seat towards the back... As if I didn't notice them on my walk back to row 38. </div>
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Money will buy you that... a lot of money, but sometimes it's worth it... if you can afford it. </div>
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About $600 will buy you the experience of walking past those seats ranging from $2,000-10,000 to your economy seat - in the middle of the Boeing 777.<br />
Sure they offer movies on demand, good ones even.<br />
And TV shows, and you can even make you're own playlist for the long trip.<br />
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But sitting down in those small seats with your knees pressed up against the seat in front of you, shoving your few important belongings into the seat back pocket in front of you, creating even more of a cramped space, just praying that the person next to you had the decency to shower, maybe even apply a little deodorant before the flight, is not exactly the most relaxed way to begin a 10 hour journey inside a tube hurling through space reprocessing air... and I'm a good flyer! ha<br />
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Luckily for me I actually enjoy the feeling of being trapped in small spaces, and most of the airplane food I've had has been pretty good. I also love the chance to talk to people.<br />
Within the first 10 minutes I knew the lady next to me had been coached in intramural college soccer by Jon Stewart. She was traveling home after visiting her niece and was pretty excited to watch the movie the Iron Lady. She would also be enjoying the vegetarian dish...<br />
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I smiled because I had been afforded the opportunity to travel abroad for "work" and so putting up with a little cramped travel seemed like a reasonable trade off.<br />
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<a href="http://uk.competitor.com/edinburgh">Rock 'n' Roll Edinburgh Half Marathon</a><br />
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I'd already spoken with the flight attendants and pilots, prodding them into helping me show the 2nd graders back in Iowa that Flat Stanley was on a great adventure<br />
and I assured them that I would not pull a Kristen Wiig from Bridesmaids <i>(unless they wanted a little excitement... :)</i><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z9heR4uqMWQ&feature=related">hilarious scene #1</a><br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aAsqS_HYfE4&feature=related">hilarious scene #2</a><br />
And maybe that karma played into what happened next.<br />
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The flight attendant approached me and said that the flight wasn't going to be full.<br />
And that by some divine intervention... I would be allowed to move up to the middle cabin and have a row all to myself...</div>
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That's right. I arrived at my United economy seat fully prepared to spend the next 10 hours in less than roomy conditions...only to find that the plane was unbelievably empty and that I could have an entire row... just for me.<br />
Did I mention I had a really great book (<i>Unbroken</i>)... and a dream travel partner? (<i>Flat Stanley</i>) He's a great listener ;)</div>
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This is us all stretched out in our 3..."economy" seats... just hanging out. Excuse the hair. It was a long trip with a lot of rain and putting hair up becomes the norm. Flat Stanley on the other hand was looking rather dapper... although he did require a few staples to keep him pulled together. </div>
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The food was pretty good.<br />
I used all three pillows and blankets that were in our "row" and made a nice little bed... and I laid down and slept for a few hours.<br />
Key words... "laid down"<br />
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If that wasn't enough... they served us ice cream.<br />
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Did I mention I had an awesome book to read?<br />
<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2010/11/21/books/review/Margolick-t.html?pagewanted=all">Unbroken, by Laura Hillenbrand</a><br />
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I'll tell you what money can't buy you...<br />
The emotional high... of moving your few possessions from the seat back pocket in front of you into the seat back pockets... plural in your own row that you didn't have to pay a dime for... Laying down after a big trip and waking up to the sound of a very nice flight attendant asking you if you'd like another ice cream... for Flat Stanley of course :)<br />
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Did I mention I came home to these???<br />
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<br /></div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513006574392411449noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313674386323090213.post-63195243715997727492012-04-19T05:26:00.000-07:002012-04-19T05:26:37.489-07:00Such a Sucker in Scotland :)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">I'm not going to lie. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">Passing gift stores full of neat stuff and having to walk away... got to me a little at first. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">I was in a foreign country and I really wanted to break all the rules...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">Scotland is of course famous for the Lochness Monster - lovingly referred to as "Nessie" - the name attached to all the plush toys with smiling faces radiating from an incandescent green hew... not exactly the Lochness Monster I remember learning about when I was a kid. ha</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">But I did try to believe that to <i>really</i> take in <i>anything</i>, it's about feeling it, tasting it, touching it, hearing it, smelling it...NOT 'buying' it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"> - and I don't say that just to make myself feel better about not having a "souvenir". It's true.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">There was the beloved European Fanta I couldn't wait to have again, and cashmere was being sold on every corner...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"> but as I talked to the people who lived and breathed "Edinbuttr" Scotland, as they taught me...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"> It became very apparent that unlike Americans, they really aren't about a lot of "stuff" anyway. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">For example, one day we needed to do a little shopping run for some pretty average stuff. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">Duct tape, scissors, zip ties, Sharpies, etc. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">Standing in various stores in search of all of these things, what lay before us was a pack of 20 zip ties, 3 rolls of Duct tape and 5 pairs of scissors - in the whole store! We of course needed the Costco versions of these items... </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">It dawned on me that although for our race we needed a lot... even at my own house... I probably own 5 scissors. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">One in the garage, one in the kitchen, one in the bathroom (haircutting), one in my desk, and there's probably one more floating around... just in case. (just in case... sad reality)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">My point is that I realized, I really could get by with less. And here I was, looking at entire Nation, who was living it. And.. having less things means less things to keep track of, to take care of, to lose... you get it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">Now don't get me wrong. They think Americans "go big" with everything. Which is true. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">But in some cases... I couldn't be prouder to be an American when I witness some of those "big" things we do. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><i>Namely... the great American Shower.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><i>Talk about something I appreciate more than ever. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><i>A big, hot, entirely enclosed, severe water pressure out putting showers... are amazing</i>. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">The half glass, hold the sprayer yourself while you try and sudz up your hair thing, sitting down... just isn't the same.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">But back to the point... There are some "souvenirs" I was able to get entirely for free... that truly mean more than a t-shirt to "prove" I was there. And this, is one of my favorites. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOVhYSZ_HbnlDqOlBWivgJqKYSEO6GDQkl1ZBN_eyHEnJPIF_YpJ0kY_CgcRTXgfQYD_QcZ7SvB3G_8S95luEMdDn_4Qls7fbpQ12GohUA3JlDDn0iIP7XUu_7xZ4qR5KxlaP6RzDpfagL/s1600/image_2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOVhYSZ_HbnlDqOlBWivgJqKYSEO6GDQkl1ZBN_eyHEnJPIF_YpJ0kY_CgcRTXgfQYD_QcZ7SvB3G_8S95luEMdDn_4Qls7fbpQ12GohUA3JlDDn0iIP7XUu_7xZ4qR5KxlaP6RzDpfagL/s320/image_2.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">A beautiful morning walking past St. Giles Cathedral. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">I certainly enjoyed the food (Pret a manger - was one of my go-to's) along with the national soda IRN BRU (which outsells Coke and Pepsi!)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpLUsVCPHeGyUROnyQ-FK3JTcRUdW9T2E2AokB8JHQO1y4kvHiIh2xn3Ra0XYNMscLp_Wl56sBayXsL-a5v0WOyhsckMkIIQH27AJKxSNPjefMOTEpTnt2ZuVao-a3pK8nGDNiNksocqYR/s1600/image_4.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpLUsVCPHeGyUROnyQ-FK3JTcRUdW9T2E2AokB8JHQO1y4kvHiIh2xn3Ra0XYNMscLp_Wl56sBayXsL-a5v0WOyhsckMkIIQH27AJKxSNPjefMOTEpTnt2ZuVao-a3pK8nGDNiNksocqYR/s320/image_4.jpeg" width="239" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvXu8YVYesDl8rtwNS0ManCg3ty9I24RaT-Czj3G5Iljopt4CKQGYMVTJZNIQeaW18UYspY1GHG-4-2Hf-Fyo264kQ655gJOEYZYWCUY3EX1tYNrRGLs2bDVGAsxY5TwHXsElUZoj0OQmL/s1600/image_3.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvXu8YVYesDl8rtwNS0ManCg3ty9I24RaT-Czj3G5Iljopt4CKQGYMVTJZNIQeaW18UYspY1GHG-4-2Hf-Fyo264kQ655gJOEYZYWCUY3EX1tYNrRGLs2bDVGAsxY5TwHXsElUZoj0OQmL/s320/image_3.jpeg" width="239" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"> I took in the fresh rain filled air and green grass of Arthur's Seat and a rainbow...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJpQKCaC4Ue9uOtmsl4PKZIeRmgmii8iuePLRwPKl-X7nS6mCRJPMELs-U0JwZd3-jXvqyYmfZPGhr6cl8a5004PyUs4dtoQe6fqaSimCBSbY5u-BZzEE4WJhjSIC8E3pLHNk5_ooVzhQv/s1600/photo-322.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJpQKCaC4Ue9uOtmsl4PKZIeRmgmii8iuePLRwPKl-X7nS6mCRJPMELs-U0JwZd3-jXvqyYmfZPGhr6cl8a5004PyUs4dtoQe6fqaSimCBSbY5u-BZzEE4WJhjSIC8E3pLHNk5_ooVzhQv/s320/photo-322.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"> the potent but smooth aroma of locally distilled Macallan whiskey, </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIyi9V9NpxHZKOD6Qr5Jylqdl7uZixz0C2mnzVkX0O8RjnHVIWVbHFN5Bz-vBIWcRGJC1qw1XZkZZA19Ms6lTDxkRBR8lkTrF-hC6F8XYc2khoCC4ulL09gLMQNKDNMNFDVlsezerR3eqQ/s1600/image_1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIyi9V9NpxHZKOD6Qr5Jylqdl7uZixz0C2mnzVkX0O8RjnHVIWVbHFN5Bz-vBIWcRGJC1qw1XZkZZA19Ms6lTDxkRBR8lkTrF-hC6F8XYc2khoCC4ulL09gLMQNKDNMNFDVlsezerR3eqQ/s320/image_1.jpeg" width="239" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">felt the old stone walls of some of the worlds oldest castles </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGPGy3Q8zQdY_OLuXNDxz3UNsIMgVtMoAVyTiq2w0EiYswDt7hQnzPPjOPd5FlfPhIMwr3Rb1ZVtekhXzZEXylK6qr2NctBZfDod0ETbduPbGtCAecRUVaCvS7kW8_TJg6gY915NhOVzeK/s1600/image_1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGPGy3Q8zQdY_OLuXNDxz3UNsIMgVtMoAVyTiq2w0EiYswDt7hQnzPPjOPd5FlfPhIMwr3Rb1ZVtekhXzZEXylK6qr2NctBZfDod0ETbduPbGtCAecRUVaCvS7kW8_TJg6gY915NhOVzeK/s320/image_1.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Oh and did I mention the "listening" part??</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Let me tell you about a fun "fact' I learned while I was in the HoneyBee Hive Pub the night after the race. </div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm approached by a tall young gent who asks if I am the girl who was "commentating" at the end of the race. "Yes" I replied. </div><div style="text-align: center;">"I almost ran you over" he said. </div><div style="text-align: center;">I chuckled. There are a few runners every race who get a burst of energy upon seeing the big finish line structure and bolt to the outside of the finish chute to sprint their way to the end. Usually I'm standing near the outside, right along the fence, and I can see the determination in their faces and so I flatten myself along the fence and let them past. With just 5,000 runners I actually remembered seeing this mans determined face, and the flick of his hand gesturing to me to get out of the way. As he passed he must have had to really dig down deep because he growled a little bit. </div><div style="text-align: center;">I was not mistaken. </div><div style="text-align: center;">(<i>His friends made it very clear to him that he indeed make a very odd growling sound as he sped past them as well)</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br />
</i></div><div style="text-align: center;">Either way we all had a good laugh about the race and of course the conversation continues about where everyone is from, what we had done during our time in Scotland etc. </div><div style="text-align: center;">One of my regrets was not trying haggis. There was a food vendor at the race but by the time I was finished the food vendor had packed everything up. We scoured the menu at the Honeybee Hive in search of some, but no such luck. To make up for it I suppose, the guys started telling me all about it. </div><div style="text-align: center;">It was a "sausage" or hot dog of sorts. various meats from an animal that lives in the highlands cased in it's stomach - traditionally. </div><div style="text-align: center;">"Is it like a pig?" I asked.</div><div style="text-align: center;">No. They told me it was smaller. </div><div style="text-align: center;">"Like a raccoon?" I pressed</div><div style="text-align: center;">No. Smaller they explained. And since it lives in the highlands and spends all it's time in the hills, it has adapted physically. One side of it's legs is shorter than the other. Which gives it an advantage in some ways, but a disadvantage when it comes to being caught. hmmm. </div><div style="text-align: center;">You should have heard the ghost stories I heard a few nights prior as I was roaming the ancient city....</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">This is what I do know....</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"><div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0.4em;"><b>Haggis</b> is a kind of savoury pudding containing sheep's pluck (heart, liver and lungs — see <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Offal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #0645ad; text-decoration: none;" title="Offal">offal</a>); <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mincing" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #0645ad; text-decoration: none;" title="Mincing">minced</a> with <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Onion" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #0645ad; text-decoration: none;" title="Onion">onion</a>, oatmeal, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Suet" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #0645ad; text-decoration: none;" title="Suet">suet</a>, spices, and salt, mixed with <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stock_(food)" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #0645ad; text-decoration: none;" title="Stock (food)">stock</a>, and traditionally encased in the animal's stomach and <a class="mw-redirect" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Simmer" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #0645ad; text-decoration: none;" title="Simmer">simmered</a> for approximately three hours. Most modern commercial haggis is prepared in a <a class="mw-redirect" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sausage_casing" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #0645ad; text-decoration: none;" title="Sausage casing">sausage casing</a> rather than an actual stomach.</div><div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0.4em;">As the 2001 English edition of the <i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Larousse_Gastronomique" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #0645ad; text-decoration: none;" title="Larousse Gastronomique">Larousse Gastronomique</a></i> puts it, "Although its description is not immediately appealing, haggis has an excellent nutty texture and delicious savoury flavour".<sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-0" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1em;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Haggis#cite_note-0" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #0645ad; text-decoration: none; white-space: nowrap;"><span>[</span>1<span>]</span></a></sup></div><div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0.4em;">The haggis is a traditional Scottish dish, considered the national dish of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scotland" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #0645ad; text-decoration: none;" title="Scotland">Scotland</a> as a result of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_Burns" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #0645ad; text-decoration: none;" title="Robert Burns">Robert Burns'</a> poem <i><a class="extiw" href="http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Address_to_a_Haggis" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #3366bb; text-decoration: none;" title="wikisource:Address to a Haggis">Address to a Haggis</a></i> of 1787. Haggis is traditionally served with "neeps and tatties" (Scots: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rutabaga" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #0645ad; text-decoration: none;" title="Rutabaga">rutabaga</a> and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Potato" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #0645ad; text-decoration: none;" title="Potato">potato</a>), boiled and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mashed_potato" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #0645ad; text-decoration: none;" title="Mashed potato">mashed</a>separately and a dram (a glass of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scotch_whisky" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #0645ad; text-decoration: none;" title="Scotch whisky">Scotch whisky</a>), especially as the main course of a<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Burns_supper" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: initial; background-image: none; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #0645ad; text-decoration: none;" title="Burns supper">Burns supper</a>. However it is also often eaten with other accompaniments.</div><div style="line-height: 1.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0.4em;"><br />
</div></span>Here is what I just learned yesterday.... :)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wild_haggis">Wild Haggis</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Now... that is something money... just can't buy.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513006574392411449noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6313674386323090213.post-67294800522854739852012-04-12T15:48:00.001-07:002012-04-12T15:52:10.293-07:00Wet Wellies and wonderful food!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Each day has started a little wet, been fairly sunny, and then rainy at night.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Just to be sure... I've been wearing my Wellies. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I gotta tell ya... could be one of the most "useful" thrift store purchases I've ever made. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">DAY #1</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMP0YIr7Xg5A24yQssNBng0YvXA8Q_twzHnJKpIRg_wKpvzIIyYyJJOtKi5ND73xxiNOX6SNu93R1BGpgS44rFucXK2CsNTm7U14xi0NT-Ht5irg4ye8rgZWGVeRz-Dh7BDwauMwk36TtK/s1600/wellies%253Asocks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMP0YIr7Xg5A24yQssNBng0YvXA8Q_twzHnJKpIRg_wKpvzIIyYyJJOtKi5ND73xxiNOX6SNu93R1BGpgS44rFucXK2CsNTm7U14xi0NT-Ht5irg4ye8rgZWGVeRz-Dh7BDwauMwk36TtK/s320/wellies%253Asocks.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">DAY #2</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz6ZNNHefm2BrOd9fSzDzAMuyBIfWiT34QcnHSIAqOER9r6fZAko-puitGUGmZ_jQwxPX5oErcr9zXChBpPqSEHcMNPUqIpKfzHxqk0Othj-p4-LilKGsKzxr56QlnFvEo9npSSpo6HcPL/s1600/wellies+day2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz6ZNNHefm2BrOd9fSzDzAMuyBIfWiT34QcnHSIAqOER9r6fZAko-puitGUGmZ_jQwxPX5oErcr9zXChBpPqSEHcMNPUqIpKfzHxqk0Othj-p4-LilKGsKzxr56QlnFvEo9npSSpo6HcPL/s320/wellies+day2.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">and just in case there was any doubt about how much "work" i'm doing... ha</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I also managed to polish off an entire pizza by myself tonight. Now that's work!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIFROtd4BOIVdC2whfWIfSTtJQM65QCIW-bSIp6nM-OR1kNExLvB92COIYD5Gf7bkmzfG11F-_GtEMJ4mM_LYxmH0r4YYRNeFzULo3GLEVLZzUEOaqxeGn8yyEtDsFrgYX54nk08WNas_9/s1600/edn+pizza.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIFROtd4BOIVdC2whfWIfSTtJQM65QCIW-bSIp6nM-OR1kNExLvB92COIYD5Gf7bkmzfG11F-_GtEMJ4mM_LYxmH0r4YYRNeFzULo3GLEVLZzUEOaqxeGn8yyEtDsFrgYX54nk08WNas_9/s320/edn+pizza.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Oh and did I mention we did Karaoke last night? Apparently they're not big country fans around here :)</div><div style="text-align: center;">My Miranda Lambert "Gunpowder and Lead" only got a few laughs when I got to the chorus... ha</div><div style="text-align: center;">But you know I got home safe and dry thanks to my big green boots. </div><div style="text-align: center;">They kind of help me camouflage into the terrain. It's so green here!</div><div style="text-align: center;">Little do they know what lies beneath... ha</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Then headed over to stuff goody bags for the Rock n Roll Edinburgh Half Marathon with some local high school kids. What a hoot! They really like Lucky Charms... and they can't get it here. I asked if we could make a deal? Lucky charms for Fanta in a can...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">We were getting so hungry stuffing and of course we started talking about McDonalds, and In-N-Out and Chick-fil-a and they asked if I liked Jaffa cakes? </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXSdEFuTQs5Bc-nfkS7j6Fnjn76tnp6SgrmZVnXEFvRf-K99X4-tuzOd8MN8wG1sPuB-VBGyAPKzHhMNoXgTWBoIaZmtwJEovz5BPh8ai1cON9QpRhhWTZz-AxSN9gEh804_CklAt9xwDM/s1600/jaffa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXSdEFuTQs5Bc-nfkS7j6Fnjn76tnp6SgrmZVnXEFvRf-K99X4-tuzOd8MN8wG1sPuB-VBGyAPKzHhMNoXgTWBoIaZmtwJEovz5BPh8ai1cON9QpRhhWTZz-AxSN9gEh804_CklAt9xwDM/s320/jaffa.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">That's on my list to try tomorrow. </div><div style="text-align: center;">My rule is I have to try one new food everyday. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Yesterday I had a Double Decker candy bar - pretty good.... </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW9nPKrK5tEue8twhMwb_TXMldxIM_sGqAmAAwRBRX-kNw_8yW5olclnCCsqGN5FLEgtRhlALaSL6XGbTDVLMGKwST0OjokzqFgvNj4_Y2acr8qPYoKi5aABJ1Q1ogj_UW97dB1l1OpQ35/s1600/double-decker-half1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW9nPKrK5tEue8twhMwb_TXMldxIM_sGqAmAAwRBRX-kNw_8yW5olclnCCsqGN5FLEgtRhlALaSL6XGbTDVLMGKwST0OjokzqFgvNj4_Y2acr8qPYoKi5aABJ1Q1ogj_UW97dB1l1OpQ35/s320/double-decker-half1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXFwFZ1nG6h6eya7uNDaKV3D1XNVTeYW5LkCOBO4sfZTBWTUbDKxxWCS5ms5FTU13i_iY41bEcjo1Z2LmSH2-fpKS-Xdu9DRZaX0Q9GX_SJlUZ7u0v4WqgHkUp7IiUmGdMwXJLUbBPd-aF/s1600/CW6.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXFwFZ1nG6h6eya7uNDaKV3D1XNVTeYW5LkCOBO4sfZTBWTUbDKxxWCS5ms5FTU13i_iY41bEcjo1Z2LmSH2-fpKS-Xdu9DRZaX0Q9GX_SJlUZ7u0v4WqgHkUp7IiUmGdMwXJLUbBPd-aF/s320/CW6.JPG" width="287" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"> and today I tried two different kinds of "crisps" or chips. One flavor was Steak and Onion and the other was Prawn Cocktail. Good!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"What did you do while you were in Scotland Ann?"</div><div style="text-align: center;">Well... I tried every kind of junk food they had!" </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Oh and last night we ate Sea Bass - with the head on! at The Outsider - delicious. </div>Anniehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09513006574392411449noreply@blogger.com0